


Trading Secrets

by shadhahvar



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1980s, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Expatriate Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Character Death, It's Yakov :c, M/M, Mention of the KGB, State Police, The Russia House AU, USSR
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 22:26:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15180692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadhahvar/pseuds/shadhahvar
Summary: At twenty-eight Katsuki Yuri hadn’t expected to become a spy, let alone for a foreign nation.





	Trading Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [Izzy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/izzyisozaki) and [Quinn](https://sometimesidrawstuffanditsokay.tumblr.com/) for beta-reading this!

At twenty-eight Katsuki Yuri hadn’t expected to become a spy, let alone for a foreign nation. He was an unremarkable man of average height with dark hair and brown eyes. He’d worked at a manuscript publishing company located in the United Kingdom for the last five years or so, using his secondary gift for languages to his advantage when sent throughout the region for conferences and manuscript fairs. All which somehow conspired to place him squarely in line for what fate brought next: Victor.

Yuri met Victor of the somber suit and platinum blond hair and smile that didn’t quite reach his striking blue eyes when he was in Leningrad in the spring. 

“Mr. Katsuki? I’m here on behalf of my uncle, Yakov Feltsman. He said the two of you met last fall.”

“Mr. Feltsman?” Yuri frowned, faintly embarrassed as he tried to pair a face to the name. Sorting through hazy memories of manuscript meetings followed by visits to a bath-house and an afternoon’s worth of sweating and drinking teas and pleasant conversation left him coming up blank. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember him. Do you know when we met?”

“Sadly, I didn’t hear all the details.” Victor’s smile was both apologetic and wry. “All I know is your conversation was enlightening enough he wanted this manuscript delivered to you. He believes there’s a wider audience who’d find the concepts he discusses interesting, and you’re the man who might help him reach those people.”

Yuri glanced at the bundled manuscript, reaching out with a mental sigh and a polite smile on his lips. “I can’t promise we’ll take it to press,” he said, repeating a familiar refrain. “I work with procurement. I don’t have much sway in final decisions for publication.”

“Oh, that’s fine! I don’t think my uncle expects guarantees. He wanted to take a chance, that’s all.”

Yuri nodded, tucking the manuscript under one arm. “In that case, I’m glad to accept, Mr…?” He held out his hand.

“Mr. Nikiforov.” He laughed, clasping hands with Yuri. “Or Victor, really. I’m sorry, I got ahead of myself. You have no idea how much this means to my uncle.” 

Victor’s rough hand was warm in Yuri’s, his grip strong without being overbearing. “I’m not making any promises, Mr. Nikiforov.”

“Victor, please.”

Yuri paused, offering a small smile and a slight bow of his head. “Victor.”

It was when he returned to his hotel room that night that he found the cover letter, trying to get a page count to add Yakov’s manuscript to the list of those he was bringing back. The neat, careful writing requested he bring the information contained therein to the attention of the British Intelligence Agency.

_For the world we both imagine humanity can achieve in spite of the odds._

* * *

Nine months had passed since then. He’d been back in Leningrad many times by MI6’s request, an unremarkable face for a publishing company known to have vested interests in the region. He met up with Victor here and there, relegated to treating him to forays into local cafes or joining him for social drinking, in which both avoided imbibing most everything on menu.

Their walks together, chatting amiably about everything that touched their lives in no political fashion, were the moments he came to enjoy most. Learning that Victor loved dogs and dreamed of one day owning one himself; learning about his extended family, cousins he called siblings, and their antics in day-to-day life.

In return he shared small parts of his own life. Nothing trackable, he’d been well warned about that, but sentiments, memories. What it was like swimming in the seas off the coast he grew up on. How he enjoyed the _banya_ , but preferred the _onsen_ in his country. How he liked dogs too, but never had the chance to own one. Maybe he would once he returned to Japan.

He didn’t know at what point their association crossed over into affection, only that one day he realised it had. 

They were at the park, avoiding discussing when Yakov’s answers to the questions Yuri had been tasked with bringing would arrive. It was a tiring back and forth of checking and cross-checking if Yakov’s information was trustworthy while looking for a Red Herring set up by the state. _We’re close_ , MI6 said, _but we have to be sure._

Yuri leaned back, tipping his head skyward and turning his hand palm up where it rested on the bench between them. He mumbled something about the difficulties of cloud watching during the long winter months. When Victor’s fingers laced with his and he pointed out winter was better for stargazing and dreaming, Yuri smiled.

It seemed surreal. They were two reluctant informants acting as conduits for people with information to exchange. They were falling in love, but their happiness was as tenuous in nature as their unwanted second lives. 

It couldn’t last.

* * *

“I heard from Uncle Yasha. He won’t be able to make dinner tomorrow, but he hopes to make it up soon.” Victor sounded tense and clipped over the phone, speaking through a grimace instead of a smile. 

Yuri’s heart raced as adrenaline and fear surged through him. He heard Victor’s message behind the innocuous words: _Yakov’s been caught. They’re coming. Get out while you still can._

He forced himself to speak. “That’s fine, I know he’s busy. We’ll catch up later. Will I still get to see you?”

The moment of hesitation before Victor spoke with forced cheerfulness made Yuri want to cry. “Of course! When haven’t I had time for you, Yuri? I get so few chances. I wouldn’t waste a single one.”

Yuri called his handler after they disconnected, one fist curled in his lap, fingers biting into the palm of his hand. He listened to what they said. _Walk away, Mr. Katsuki. If you still have time._

He made his decision. 

The next morning he woke up earlier than he preferred, washing his face and dressing like nothing in the world had changed. He didn’t pack his suitcase, though he had his passport on him; his toiletries remained spread out on the narrow counter. The illusion of his confidence in returning was complete.

Half an hour later Katsuki Yuri adjusted his glasses and peered down at the address written on the scrap of paper he’d tucked into his pocket. He smoothed out the creases and glanced up at the street sign, mouthing the shapes of the letters written there. His heart felt close to bursting out of his chest, his expression impassive in spite of the anxiety swirling through him. If his negotiation didn’t work out like he planned, then what? 

Yuri swallowed his fears and strode up the steps of an unremarkable house on a street filled with homes that had seen better decades. He knocked, fixing the man who answered with a determined stare.

“I’d like to negotiate an information exchange.”

The man studied him, unsmiling and unblinking. He moved to the side, inviting Yuri in. “Please, Mr. Katsuki. We’re interested in hearing what you have to say.”

Yuri stepped forward. The door clicked shut behind him.

The British Intelligence Agency didn’t hear from Katsuki Yuri again.

* * *

Two years later he stood on the bridge linking both halves of the town he grew up in, hair ruffled by the wind blowing in off the sea, its welcome coolness cutting through the summer heat. Yuri closed his eyes and allowed himself to enjoy the sensation.

“Five yen for your thoughts.” Familiar arms wound around his waist, holding Yuri like he was precious. Yuri smiled. If Victor found Yuri precious, Yuri found Victor even more so. 

“I love you,” he said, opening his eyes and turning in Victor’s embrace. 

“Is that so?” Victor grinned, bright and uninhibited, so much warmer than years before. “I love you too, you know.”

“I know.” Yuri wrapped his arms around his neck, resting his forehead against Victor’s. “I’m just sorry you’ll never be able to go home.”

“Oh, Yuri,” he said, a fond smile softening his features. “One day you’ll believe me when I say that I didn’t find my home until I met you.”

Yuri blushed, happiness filling his chest. As he pressed his lips to Victor’s, chasing an emotion too large for him to hold on his own, he was once again glad to leave spying and spy games to the people who wanted to live that life. Handing over that final list of questions to the state had allowed him to secure Victor’s freedom along with the rest of his family. Yuri chose to protect his life and love at the cost of a small betrayal of a nation that wasn’t his own.

If he had any regrets in this life, that would never be counted as one.


End file.
